by Ian Andrew
“I think polite always wins. I’ll come with you and have Tien follow me up. She can drive me home when we’re finished.” She saw the slight doubt pass through his eyes and thought, ‘Advantage me.’
Chapter 37
Saturday Night. Huntingdon
Kara sat comfortably in the chair on one side of the table. Her hands were in her lap. The tips of her fingers and thumbs pressing together with the lightest of pressures. She was concentrating completely on that pressure. Focusing her mind on it, listening to the rhythm of her heart in her ears and matching it to the rhythm of the pulse she could feel in her thumbs. She slowed her breathing, but not so any external observer could see. Just slowed it and then held it for four seconds, then breathed out. Again she controlled it so it wouldn’t be noticed. Again to a count of four, then once her lungs were empty she held for another four. Then in again. All the time focussing on the tips of her fingers, listening, feeling, focussing. She gazed across the table.
Moya Little and Tony Reynolds sat opposite. The tape recorder was on and above it a little green light glowed softly. Kara gave them her best smile.
“Kara, have you ever been in Huntingdon before?” Moya asked.
“Yes, a few times I’m sure.”
“What about last week?”
“Yes. Definitely. I was here carrying out a surveillance operation for a client. Her name was Boon and I was asked to follow her girlfriend. To find out if she was cheating.”
“What time did you finish?”
“About two or three in the morning.”
“Did you- ”
Kara raised her hand up and stopped Moya in mid-sentence. “Listen folks, I’m not silly. You have a dead body on the ground near to where I parked my car. I do read the news. I would have come forward and volunteered any information had I had it. But I didn’t. And I still haven’t. So let’s cut to the chase. I will volunteer a complete file detailing all my movements. I’ll tell you or even take you to the site where I parked my car. I’ll reconstruct every aspect of my Friday night, Saturday morning. But I have to tell you, it won’t put me anywhere close to a dead body, wherever it was, because I can tell you one thing with certainty. I’m observant. I’m pretty sure I’d have seen a body on the ground. So all my help won’t actually help.”
Moya looked sideways to Reynolds. It was a subtle glance but Kara was quite happy she had rattled the Sergeant. Kara continued, “Unless of course, you have some evidence on me. I know you raided my office, my home and Tien’s home this morning. Seems so much longer ago doesn’t it?”
This time Kara saw Reynolds react. She watched him racking his brain trying to figure out if he had let that nugget slip out during their long day. She thought about letting him hang but decided to just move things along.
“I know about the raid because Tien and I have surveillance measures that alert us to break-ins. Oh and you’ll have to pay for nice new doors, you know that Tony, don’t you?” She had to stop a smirk crossing her face as she watched Tony almost involuntarily nod in response to her question.
“So, do you have any evidence? We know you took lots of things away. PCs and mobiles and a pair of my shoes. Nice new ones that I specifically bought for the Huntingdon job. You’ll see there’s very little wear on them. About one night’s worth of walking around this town.” ‘Or a couple of hours of walking around my little courtyard at home since buying them at Camden Markets last Saturday,’ she thought but decided not to add.
“Do you have any evidence? Because Tien wondered about the PCs and mobiles you took. She told me they were all blank. All of them set up by her to be able to clone to mine when we need to do a new job.”
She watched both Reynolds and Little struggling to process where the interview was going.
“That’s not illegal by the way. We do it for client confidentiality. Now, you took my mobile off me when I arrived here. That’s,” she checked her watch, “an hour and a half ago. I’d have thought that was enough time for your tech-heads to figure out if there’s anything of worth on it. Wouldn’t you?” She didn’t give either a chance to respond, “So, either front up some evidence or let me go. What do you say?”
Reynolds seemed to finally have recovered his composure. “Kara, that’s all very good but I have questions for you.”
Again she raised her hand, “No actually you don’t. Am I under arrest?”
“No,” he answered through gritted teeth.
“Am I free to go?”
“Yes,” he said in the same tight manner.
“Well then, I’ll be off. I’ve cooperated fully and offered you a complete portfolio of my whereabouts and movements. I have no information of use for you and I need to go to bed. I’m tired as I’m sure you both are too. Good job today by the way. Awesome result. And when it comes to locking all of Illy’s crew up I’ll be glad to be a star witness. Likewise when you lock the Sterling’s up. You will be doing that won’t you?”
Reynolds nodded.
“Excellent. Because I have to say I think they’re almost more to blame that that sad bastard of a Russian. Anyway, have a nice night.” Kara stood and waited for Reynolds to terminate the interview and escort her out of the station.
Reynolds took his time shutting down the formalities. Kara imagined he was trying desperately to come up with a reason to keep her. Once he concluded he didn’t have anything, he stood and opened the door. As he led her up the corridor, DCS Laura Mitchell came out from the video monitoring suite. She stepped in front of Reynolds.
“It’s okay Tony. I’ll take Miss Wright from here.” Kara saw the confusion on Reynolds face as he stepped aside.
“Hello. My name’s Laura Mitchell. I’m the Detective Chief Superintendent here. Can I show you out Kara?”
Kara was intently aware that Reynolds had not been expecting this. She looked at the woman in front of her. The DCS was in uniform, her shoes, skirt, white shirt and black tie all pristine even given the lateness of the hour. Her rank slides with the pip and crown above were the same as a Lieutenant Colonel’s rank from the military and familiar to Kara. Both women were a similar height but the DCS had lighter hair, a few flecks of grey visible at the roots and Kara estimated she was probably in her mid-forties. She still had a young complexion and a pleasant smile. There was an intelligence in her eyes and Kara sensed a firmness of purpose.
“It’s fine by me Laura. Thank you.”
Mitchell led and Kara followed. But as Kara half expected they didn’t head to the station’s entrance. Instead she found herself following Laura into an office on the second floor. The nameplate on the door showed it was Mitchell’s own. An older man, thin, with a receding hairline, long features, a straight nose and a faded scar on his chin was standing to the side of the desk. He was dressed in a dark three-piece suit, white shirt and banded red and blue tie. His open jacket revealed he had a fob watch in his waistcoat pocket, the gold chain of which looped across his middle. He extended a long hand, the liver spots showing on his leathery skin. Kara reached out and accepted his greeting.
“Good evening Kara. My name’s Franklyn. I have a proposition for you, if you would be so kind as to hear me out?” He spoke with no accent. Such a rare occurrence that on the occasions Kara encountered it her interest was immediately piqued. She prided herself on logical analysis, in-depth preparation and always, always taking the extra precautions to be safe. But she was also a sucker for an enigma and sometimes she just went with her gut. Her gut was telling her that Franklyn was a man she wanted to get to know.
“Go on,” she said.
“Please sit.” He extended his hand to one of the visitor chairs in front of the desk. Kara sat. Mitchell didn’t. Instead she patted Kara gently on the shoulder and left the office, shutting the door with a gentle click. Kara glanced round and then returned her focus to Franklyn. He settled into the adjacent visitor’s chair and turned to face her.
“There are no tape devices in here. There are no tricks, this is not entrapm
ent. I do not expect you to believe me so I will not expect you to acknowledge anything one way or the other. However,” Kara watched as he placed his long, slim fingers into the exact position she had put her own into at the beginning of her interview with Reynolds. The tips just pressing together. “I am thoroughly impressed. Whoever killed a drug dealer in Huntingdon a week ago was an expert in certain skills and more importantly,” Franklyn paused and gave her the most endearing smile, “much more importantly, Kara, they knew how to clean up so that there was nothing,” he separated his fingers one by one and placed his now cupped hands in his lap, “absolutely nothing left for anyone to find.”
Kara waited.
“That’s a rare skillset,” he continued. “An even rarer one if it turns out that an individual like that also has a knack for investigating incidents. Perhaps using different methods to the norm. Gaining information, tracking people, observing them, making arrests possible on occasions that otherwise would never have materialised. Almost exactly what happened today with our old friend Chekov.”
Franklyn leant back a little in his chair but didn’t add anything more. Kara knew the tactic. Say nothing, see if she would fill in the space, see if she would engage further. Her training told her to say nothing, do nothing, give nothing. But as she sat in the office and looked around, looked at the photos and certificates on Mitchell’s walls and much more so, looked at Franklyn, she knew that her training was dependant on circumstance. It was designed to not engage, not give anything away, not open up, not betray her comrades when in the face of an enemy. This was different. This was intriguing. She actually wanted to know more, especially about the man to her left.
“Go on,” she said again.
Franklyn allowed himself another smile. A warm expression that Kara found herself reciprocating. “I am long retired,” he said. “But Laura and I represent some people who would find a combination of skillsets such as I have described, very attractive. Very useable. Very worthwhile.”
“Yet I notice Laura isn’t here,” Kara said.
“Yes. That is a little tenet of ours, self-imposed. We see it as a matter of honourable necessity. Call it a separation of powers. A protection of the rightful forces of law and order from,” he paused and smirked. “Well, shall we just say from those forces that would be able to take a fresh approach, and leave it at that?”
Kara thought about the implications of what he had said. She finally spoke, “So Franklyn, what would these people you represent need these skills for? What might this fresh approach be used for?”
“The skills could be convenient on those occasions when the normal system has difficulty investigating. Difficulty apprehending. Difficulty achieving a just outcome. The freshness of the approach could be all the difference.”
“And would these people protect their fresh and skilful asset?” Kara asked and held the gaze of the old, yet vibrant, blue eyes that stared back at her.
Franklyn said it almost imperceptibly, “No, not at all. But the rewards would be handsome.”
“I don’t think I need money, for once in my life,” Kara said with a self-depreciating sarcasm.
“That’s good to know Kara. Well done if it’s true. But money and materialism is always more fun when underpinned by even more money. However, I wasn’t only referring to financial rewards. There would be opportunities to exercise skills that might otherwise become rusty. Perhaps the chance to do something that matters. And I suppose, not to be overlooked, the altruistic reward of making the world a better place. Even in a small way.”
Kara gave no outward indication but she reflected that whoever had briefed Franklyn had done it well. She had been read, profiled. He was hitting all those pressure points that she would respond to. She was being recruited. She should have felt manipulated, potentially used. But she didn’t.
He continued, “And I realise it is of no interest to you, but I’m told the death of a Huntingdon drug dealer would be classified as unsolved and closed forever. There would be no follow-up. Ever.”
Kara sat very still and thought through the proposition. Despite her best efforts she felt the thrill of operations, the rush of going into harm’s way, the excitement of danger building in her.
She knew she had a half-smile on her face as she turned to look at the old man. “And how Franklyn, would you know when you’ve found the person to take on these tasks?”
“Oh, I think I’d know when I’d met the right person,” he stood and extended his hand again, “Miss Wright.”
About the Author
Ian was born in Northern Ireland in 1966. At 18 he joined the Royal Air Force; originally training as an aircraft technician he was later Commissioned as an Intelligence Officer. Throughout his Service he had the pleasure of working alongside some “right eejits” that he still feels lucky to call friends. On leaving the Service he relocated to Western Australia and is now surrounded by a resident mob of Kangaroos who bounce past his house each day. They remind him of his previous colleagues.
His first novel A Time To Every Purpose, an alternative history with a religious twist, was published independently in 2014 and gained positive critical acclaim.
Extras
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Also by Ian Andrew
A Time To Every Purpose
Leigh Wilson, the preeminent scientist of her generation, has invented a way to look back into time. Banned from using it for anything more than investigative purposes by a brutal regime that fears its power, she complies in the face of insurmountable odds.
But the world is changing and in the aftermath of a vicious murder Leigh now faces her ultimate dilemma. Can she muster the courage to act and reset her reality?
A Time to Every Purpose is a fast moving thriller with amazing twists and turns that grips you through to its final, unexpected climax. A ground-breaking, cross-genre thriller from an exciting author.
"A thriller with heart... Gifted storytelling combines with meticulous scientific and historical research to produce a memorable and profoundly moving story."
(Elaine Fry, The West Australian)
“A Time To Every Purpose by Ian Andrew deals with huge concepts, looking at the broad sweep of history… a well-executed alternate history novel with some great action scenes.”
(John Wyatt, News UK)
“Very cleverly crafted, beautifully phrased, technically adept, and this guy really does know how to tell a story.”
(Inspired, Amazon UK)
Available on Kindle Here or in Paperback
from all good retailers.
Copyright
Copyright © Ian Andrew, 2015
Published: 11 May 2015 by JohnHooper
ISBN: 978-0-9924641-4-1
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
The right of Ian Andrew to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Cover Illustration: Web & Print Hub, Australia
Face Image, used under license from Shutterstock.com
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